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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26596663">The Dyin' Slob</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/pseuds/Gumnut'>Gumnut</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nutty Funny Fic [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Thunderbirds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brothers, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Influenza, Sick Character, Sickfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:28:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26596663</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/pseuds/Gumnut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gordon has the flu.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nutty Funny Fic [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1189897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Dyin' Slob</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Virgil hurried through post-flight. The rescue had been a simple one, fortunately. He had been able to manage it on his own and in the shortest time possible. There were matters at home he would be more comfortable seeing to in person.</p><p>Sure, there was nothing serious to be concerned about.</p><p>He told himself that as he lowered Two’s hatch and leapt onto the concrete hangar floor.</p><p>Really, it was only a flu.</p><p>One that had kept his helmet on the entire rescue. God forbid if he transmitted anything to people already in dire straits with their health.</p><p>Fortunately, standard procedure kept both him and their equipment bug free.</p><p>He still didn’t like it.</p><p>Removing his helmet was bliss itself as he strode into the lockers. A few breaths later he had taken off his uniform, baldric and all; stashed what needed stashing and chucked the rest in the laundry.</p><p>The hot shower was absolute bliss.</p><p>So okay, there may be some aching muscles, but the exosuit had been needed. He could handle it.</p><p>He didn’t luxuriate in the water, he had more important things to attend to.</p><p>A towel and a loose jumpsuit later and he was padding barefoot up into the depths of the villa in search of the one brother who had been on his mind the entire rescue.</p><p>He found him in his bedroom.</p><p>The holoprojector was projecting some kind of fish and there was music blaring...well, it could be called music, he guessed. It sounded more like recycling bin lids being smashed together or that time Two  dropped a pod onto the hangar floor from twenty metres up.</p><p>His brother lay prone on his bed, eyes closed, brow wrinkled, skin pale.</p><p>Virgil fished the remote out of a limp hand and hit the kill switch.</p><p>The sudden silence was a blessing.</p><p>“Wha-?” Bleary eyes opened and sought out the cause. “Birg?” A slow blink. “Whatcha do that for? Pu’ it back on!” A hand flailed for the remote and missed.</p><p>“Gordon, you were told to rest.”</p><p>“Don’ wanna. Wanna die fightin’.”</p><p>Virgil rolled his eyes. “You’re not dying. You have the flu.”</p><p>“Dyin’. Tell Penny I love her.”</p><p>It was at this point Virgil realised the state of the room. “What the hell have you been doing?” There were food wrappers, crumbs and a smeared slice of cake on the bedcovers.</p><p>“Last meal. Wanna go out ‘appy.”</p><p>“If you’re eating, you’re on the mend.” Which was a good thing and had Virgil feeling immeasurably better, but his brother’s bed was a rubbish tip and definitely a health hazard. His fingers darted over the covers, nabbing wrappers and several empty crisp packets. “You are a slob.”</p><p>“I’m a dyin’ slob. I live an’ die true to my nature.”</p><p>“You can say that again.” Virgil grabbed a recycle bin and a pair of latex gloves and began shovelling crap off his brother’s bed.</p><p>“Hey, that was still goo’.”</p><p>Virgil eyed the half-eaten pancake with congealed cream. “Perhaps, if you want to add food poisoning to your death certificate.” It was tossed into the bin. “Where did you get pancakes from anyway?”</p><p>“Stash. Emergency stash. I’ secret.” Gordon flopped in a dramatic way. Particularly dramatic since he was still lying down.</p><p>An arched eyebrow. “Sure.” But the next wrapper contained the remains of a stick of Blackpool Rock.</p><p>Virgil held it up, examining it. “Gordon, is this mine?”</p><p>Foggy brown eyes peered up at him. “Oh.”</p><p>“Gordon! Penny gave them to me.”</p><p>“But I wanted some.” It was such a whine, it was painful.</p><p>“Then why didn’t you ask her to get you some?”</p><p>The grump that appeared on his brother’s face was almost comical. It would be more comical if Virgil wasn’t holding back the urge to add strangulation to his brother’s supposed death certificate.</p><p>As it was, Gordon’s mumbled response was a clear indication that he had asked Penny for some Rock, but had been denied in some manner.</p><p>Hence the thievery.</p><p>Virgil sighed. “You could have ordered your own.”</p><p>“Not the same.”</p><p>“But stealing mine is?”</p><p>“You don’t mind. You’re a softy and I’m sick.” Yes, that was definitely a childish pout.</p><p>“I’m a softy, huh?” He must remember to disprove that allegation and seek the appropriate revenge.</p><p>After his brother was better.</p><p>Virgil sighed.</p><p>Gordon knew him far too well.</p><p>“You suck.”</p><p>“I’m dyin’ here.”</p><p>Virgil shoved a slice of cake in the bin, followed by three more empty crisp packets and a cookie wrapper. For god’s sake, the rescue had only taken him an hour. How much could one flu-ridden aquanaut eat?</p><p>There was raspberry jelly in a big blob sitting in a crease of duvet fabric. For a split second, his mind registered it as blood and his heart skipped a beat.</p><p>“Gordon!”</p><p>“Wha-?”</p><p>“That’s disgusting.”</p><p>“Wa’ accident.”</p><p>“You could have cleaned it up.”</p><p>“Can’t. Dyin’.”</p><p>Oh, for crying out loud. “You’ll need to get out of bed and change the sheets.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Virgil pulled back the edge of the duvet to uncover his brother for some motivation only to find a worm of spray cheese curled up beside him.</p><p>“My god.”</p><p>“Wha-?”</p><p>“Gordon, get out of bed.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I need to change the sheets.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because you are disgusting, that’s why.”</p><p>“Don’ wanna. Dyin’.”</p><p>Oh, he was getting closer to dying by the moment. Fratricide. Definitely fratricide.</p><p>“Move your ass or lose it.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Gordon.”</p><p>“Let me die in peace.” And as if to prove the point, his brother coughed a little and then burst into a horrendous fit, possibly attempting to turn his lungs inside out.</p><p>Virgil’s heart softened as he held him. “C’mon, Gordon, relax. Calm your breathing.”</p><p>Gordon let out a decidedly childish whimper and curled up under the rancid covers in a ball of misery.</p><p>Another attempt. “Let’s get you out of those bedclothes and into something clean. You will feel so much better.”</p><p>Gordon grunted. “Leeme ‘lone. Dyin’.”</p><p>Virgil straightened up, his back creaking. A sigh. Okay, they were going to have to do this the hard way.</p><p>Just like any mission, Virgil gathered his tools first. Fresh sheets, a spare duvet, pillow and pillow case. He stacked them up in strategic positions beside his prone and still moaning brother.</p><p>“Are you sure you don’t want to get out of bed, so I can change the sheets? You do realise I have a duty of care. One that means I have to make sure you don’t expire due to exposure to your own swill.”</p><p>“I’m not a pig.”</p><p>“Oh, yes, you are.”</p><p>“You hur’ m’ feelings.”</p><p>“Too bad. Get out of bed.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Gordon...”</p><p>“No. Lemme die in peace.”</p><p>“Then you leave me no choice.”</p><p>He didn’t give his brother a chance to question that before ripping off the disgusting duvet and throwing it across the floor. Gordon yelped and curled up. He was only wearing pyjama shorts in typical Gordon fashion.</p><p>“Virgil!”</p><p>Without another word, he stripped the sheets from beneath his brother, whisking them away not unlike a magician removing a tablecloth from under fine china.</p><p>Gordon still yelped.</p><p>The pillow was chucked and with some determined aquanaut manipulation, the bottom sheet was replaced. Gordon squirmed under his grip. “What the hell are you doing?”</p><p>“What needs to be done.”</p><p>The pillow was replaced and the new duvet gently laid down.</p><p>Gordon grabbed at it as if it might suddenly disappear on him again.</p><p>“There, done. Please try to keep them clean this time otherwise I’ll do that all over again.”</p><p>“You are cruel.” Gordon glared a teary glare up at him.</p><p>Virgil grunted. “Yeah, well, you’re disgusting.”</p><p>“I’m dyin’. Give me a break.”</p><p>Virgil snorted and piled all the discarded bedclothes together and threw them down the laundry chute. He must remember to put in some serious germ killers in with that lot.</p><p>“Go to sleep, Gordon. You will feel better, I promise.”</p><p>“Hate you.” His little brother curled up into a ball of misery.</p><p>“Yeah, sure you do.” He couldn’t help himself, he reached out and brushed Gordon’s hair back from his forehead. He was a lot cooler than he had been earlier.</p><p>Thank god.</p><p>“You’re getting better. Get some sleep.”</p><p>Gordon mumbled something into the sheets and closed his eyes.</p><p>Virgil brushed his hair again, gently stroking his fingers amongst wavy strawberry blond.</p><p>He didn’t leave until his little brother’s breathing dropped into the regularity of sleep.</p><p>A small smile to himself and he headed towards the door.</p><p>Tripping on a stray soda can, he nearly fell flat on his face, barely catching himself on the edge of a desk.</p><p>His hand landed in something sticky.</p><p>Oh, god.</p><p>He bit back his brother’s name as he stalked out.</p><p>Disinfectant.</p><p>A hose.</p><p>Maybe Two’s water cannon.</p><p>Yes, his water cannon.</p><p>It would solve so many problems.</p><p>-o-o-o-</p><p>FIN.</p>
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